Sally’s Cafe and Bookstore – New Book on the Shelves – Extra Innings: Can You Go Home Again? by Don Massenzio

Hot off the press and released yesterday… the new book from Don Massenzio Extra Innings: Can You Go Home Again?

About the book

Joe McLean hates his life. A lonely, divorced, middle-aged man, stuck in a cramped apartment, the only bright spot in Joe’s life is cheering on his hometown baseball team. Now, the local stadium, the place of many childhood and adult memories is being replaced. Joe desperately wants a piece of this iconic venue to preserve his memories and have some memorabilia from his happier past. That’s when unusual things begin to happen, and Joe begins to rethink the direction his life has taken. Can Joe take a different path in life? Can he use the special ability that he has acquired to change the course of his life? Will he realize the truth about old adage, you can never go home again? Follow the twists and turns in this supernatural story, Extra Innings, to find out.

Head over and buy the book:

And on Amazon UK:

A selection of other books by Don Massenzio

41qgh5odr0l-_uy250_51t21unx3l-_uy250_ 51vg-jwtoil-_uy250_ 41hilakdiml-_uy250_ 51r1e8yynkl-_uy250_ 51kbukrunjl-_uy250_ 514kpkveeal-_uy250_ 51xygpmqzl-_uy250_

Here is a review for Frankly Speaking on Goodreads

Feb 06, 2018 John W. Howell rated it  Five Stars

A 16-year-old girl has disappeared. The police believe she is a runaway. Her parents are sure she has been taken and is being held against her will. When the parents enlist the services of Frank Rozzani, a former police officer turned private detective, a series of events begins to unfold that implicates a popular local pastor and the religious stronghold of the ultra-conservative community.

Frank Rozzani, a transplant to Jacksonville, Florida from Syracuse, New York, must find the young girl despite the obstacles launched at him from the local police and others whose interests may be compromised by his investigation. Frank enlists the help of his associate Clifford “Jonesy” Jones to find the girl, uncover the conspiracy, and stay alive. While solving the case, Frank must deal with the demons that drove him from Upstate New York causing him to leave traumatic memories and his children behind. (Blurb from Amazon)

Frankly Speaking is the first book in the “Frank detective novel,” series. When I started the book, I was half expecting a formula detective story. You know the kind. A hard-drinking private eye who used to be on the force but was kicked off for shooting someone who deserves it. A beautiful blond who adores his roughness and a bunch of clients who have dark secrets exposed one by one. If you are expecting that kind of story, you will be surprised to find Frankly Speaking is a more profound and more vibrant story. The detective is a human being with a subtle way of finding out the truth. He has friends and a sweet dog. The friends help him cope with what was a catastrophic event in his life while also helping him solve the crime du jour. Without going into spoilers let me say the author Don Massenzio has developed a set of characters that resonate as authentic and believable. He moves them adroitly around the world he has created. He tells a great story with the sights, smells, and ambiance of Jacksonville and in later books of Syracuse. I would recommend this

Read all the reviews and buy the books:

and on Amazon UK:

Read more reviews and buy follow Don on Goodreads:

51w8ilqqnkl-_ux250_About Don Massenzio

Like his character, Frank Rozzani, Don was born in Syracuse, New York to first generation Italian American parents. He’s an avid reader. Some of my favorite authors are Harlan Coben, David Morrell, Stephen King, Jonathan Kellerman, John Grisham, and Hugh Howey. His favorite book of all time is To Kill a Mockingbird.

He started writing as a way to combat the long hours of travel and numerous hotel stays that are part of the ‘glamorous’ world of corporate life. He use writing as a therapeutic outlet to combat his homesickness.

His first published book, Frankly Speaking, rose to the top of the Amazon charts. It was the first in a series of books focused on the character, Frank Rozzani, a Florida private detective. The series is a throwback to the days of pulp detective novels with a tip of the hat to Jim Rockford from the 70’s television show, The Rockford Files. He’s also released a collection of short stories called Random Tales that is available for your Kindle or in paperback.

Also, look for his non-fiction book, The Ultimate Guide For Independently Published Authors: Tips for improving quality and selling your work, now available on as an eBook or in paperback

He moved to Jacksonville, Florida 22 years ago where he currently lives with his wife, daughter, and three dogs.

Connect to Don.



Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – The Literary Column – Blast Off! -Opening Lines by Jessica Norrie

The Literary Column by Jessica Norrie, explores the importance of first lines of books. Some are memorable and engage with you as soon as you read them. Can you remember your favourite first line of a book? Why not let us know.

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

Blast Off! – Opening Lines by Jessica Norrie.

At choir last week, rehearsing Rossini’s Petite Messe Solennelle, there was a massive crescendo and the pianist stopped accompanying to announce: “That’s known as a Rossini Rocket.” It really is, apparently. Respect.

It set me wondering about Rossini Rockets in literature. Huge, telling moments when everything catches fire and the reader can hardly hear herself think. Battle scenes in War and Peace. Anything involving Bill Sykes or Becky Sharpe. The fire in the picture gallery at Soames Forsyte’s house. Fires anywhere – think of Jane Eyre and Miss Havisham. The 19th century may have been better at this. Presumably, something sparks somewhere in Fifty Shades of Grey, although I only got to around page 53 when I found it in my cousin’s guest bedroom. Nothing much was even smouldering by then, so I went to sleep.

Rossini could write a…

View original post 1,748 more words

Sam, A Shaggy Dog Story – Chapter One – In the Beginning by Sally Cronin

It is two years since I shared my book Sam, A Shaggy Dog Story.  He arrived in our home in June, although we met earlier when he was only three weeks old, and over the next few weekends I will be sharing his story again.

51uI0kWA+ML._UY250_Chapter One – In the Beginning.

I was only three weeks old when I first met my mistress on an unusually warm Irish spring day in May. I was busy drinking milk at the time and barely lifted my head when I heard voices in the back yard where I had lived since I was born.

It was warm and comforting lying next to my two sisters as we snuggled close to my mother’s fur and from time to time a gentle lick would dampen my fluffy coat lovingly.

I was already bigger than my sisters but my mother was determined that we should all be treated with the same care and attention as each other. She was an experienced mother and she knew how to raise strong and healthy babies. This would be her last litter and she lay quietly and contentedly in the straw lined kennel.

Full of milk and very sleepy, I sensed movement in front of our home and lifted my eyes blearily. I could just make out two very large shapes but was not afraid as the smell from one of them was familiar.

Since the day I was born I had been picked up daily and held high in the air whilst a deep voice rumbled into my small ears and a strong but unthreatening scent filled my nostrils. I have no idea what the voice was saying but it sounded kind and I had no fear of it.

I was also used to a smaller body with little hands that pulled at my fur and tickled my tummy. I loved these small hands and the chuckling sounds that the shape made as it played with me and my sisters.

This new being was different and despite my desire to fall asleep after my lunch, I pricked my ears up and turned my face in its direction.

I heard two voices making soft sounds and then felt myself lifted up in the air and held closely against warm and human scented skin that was different from the smells I was used to.

I snuggled in against this scent and fell asleep hearing a soft voice saying a word that seemed to echo in my head. This was the first time that I heard my name and I have been called Sam ever since.

The days passed quickly and my sisters and I became more adventurous with lots of rough and tumble and nipping at heels and tails. We were allowed into the kitchen of the house from time to time and we spent more time with the little person with the sticky hands who chased and cuddled us as many times as we let her. We soon learnt that there were certain behaviours that were not considered acceptable; most of which involved teeth and making puddles on the kitchen floor.

My mother was content to let us roam around the house as she lay in a sunny patch of the yard where she rested away from her noisy and growing brood. We still pestered her for milk from time to time even though we were now eating some small dried pellets as well. They tasted funny and we all still preferred lying side by side close to our mother whenever we could, but I sensed that she was beginning to get impatient with us and would often stand up and move away.

I was getting used to my new name as my mother’s master started using it whenever he came into the yard. One day I heard his deep laughter as his small daughter also called to me. I did not understand at the time but it seems Sam was the first word that she ever said bypassing Dada and Mama in favour of her best friend. Trouble was she called my two sisters Sam too; which must have been very confusing for them when they went to their new homes and were given different ones.

Anyway, back to my new mistress and her husband who had never seen me before. As soon as I heard my name I bounded over to the two of them and was made a wonderful fuss of. My new mistress picked me up and tucked me into her neck which I licked and savoured. I remembered her scent from her first visit but this time my eyes were open and I was able to look into her eyes as she gazed down at me.

“Hello Sam – you’ve grown so big.” She looked over to the man and held me out to him.

“Here you go darling, meet Sam,” she said passing me into his strong hands.

I looked up into a face with kind eyes and warm smile. I felt safe and secure high up off the ground and as they talked to each other, my mistress stroked my head and back gently, reminding me of the loving licks of my mother. I stayed happily being fussed over as the voices rumbled above and around me and almost dropped off to sleep but all too soon I was back on the ground and was soon involved in a rough and tumble game of tag with my sisters.

When I was eight weeks old my sisters and I were placed in a box with mesh over the front and taken away from our mother. As we left the backyard we cried out to her but she seemed to recognise that this was just a temporary separation and settled down into a patch of sunlight by the wall.

We were placed on a seat inside a bigger box that made a very loud noise and had too many smells to identify. I smelt my mother and also the man and child but there were also harsh scents that hurt my nose. My sisters and I huddled close together and shivered at the strangeness of it all, but thankfully within a short space of time the noise stopped and the man got out of his side of the box and came around and opened the door on our side. The movement as he carried us made us feel quite sick and we were pleased when we found ourselves on a floor looking out of the grating at several pairs of feet.

We also smelt dog smells and another smell that stirred up some instinctive sense of mischief. I edged towards the grating and looked through; straight into the eyes of a large furry bundle in a cage opposite me. To my surprise it arched its back and hissed at me through the bars and I shot backwards landing on top of my smallest sister who nipped me on the ear.

After what seemed like ages the man picked us up and we swayed into another room that had sharp pungent smells that tickled our nostrils. I sneezed and heard the man laugh as he opened the mesh door and took me out.

He held me firmly on a cold metallic surface that smelt sharp and acrid. I sneezed again and then felt a new pair of hands grasp me firmly and a strange object was placed against my chest.

A deep voice rumbled in my ears. “Sounds very good Patrick, he is a fine fellow, are you keeping him to show?”

“No, while I was away on a trip to the North a lady came to see him when he was only three weeks old, paid for him there and then and my wife promised she could have him.”

There seemed to be disappointment in the man’s voice but he was an honest man and had never cheated anyone in his life.

“Pity, I think he is going to be a very special dog when he is fully grown. He has a different look about him, almost as though he is listening to everything we are saying.”

I was actually, although I couldn’t understand the words they were using, I was getting a handle on tone and emotion in voices and I sensed more than anything else what was being said.

However, these senses of mine went into overload as I felt something very sharp go into my skin at the back of my neck. Ouch, that hurt and I turned round and nipped the hand holding me firmly across my chest.

“Ouch,” responded my master’s voice and both men laughed as they examined the small puncture wounds in his hand.

“Ye he is going to be a feisty one alright.”

Despite the sore patch at the back of my neck I began to feel a little sleepy from all the excitement and as one by one my sisters were taken out and put on the table, I curled up at the back of the box and only woke when we were placed next to our mother in our kennel.

©sallycronin Sam, A Shaggy Dog Story 2009

My books

You can find all my books at these links:


Amazon UK:

Smashwords for Epub:

More reviews can be found on Goodreads:

Thank you for dropping in and as always I value your feedback. Sally.


A Date With . . . R.L.Andrew

A fantastic interview with author R.L. Andrews who has overcome her chronic and debilitating disease psoriatic arthritis, to write and publish her books. It puts our own writerly moans and groans into perspective and you will be inspired and motivated by her view on life. Please head over to Frank Parker’s to read the rest of the post.

Frank Parker's author site

My ‘date’ this week is a truly inspiring woman. R.L. (Robyn) Andrew suffers from the debilitating condition Psoriatic arthritis. This is similar to the condition which afflicted the English television playwright Dennis Potter. Being from Australia I wasn’t sure if she was aware of the English writer who I would imagine would be an inspiration. I sent her a link to Mark Lawson’ s tribute to him.

“I did not know that, Frank, and I truly appreciate the thought you’ve put into this question. He truly is an inspiration and proof of determination. I believe the man who wrote Simply Alice suffered from ALS. While not the same disease he achieved incredible things with basically no ability to physically move. I hope to inspire others in kind.

While I’m chronically ill I am still able to achieve many things albeit mentally and via technology. It’s only my physical self…

View original post 1,358 more words

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – The Literary Column – Blast Off! -Opening Lines by Jessica Norrie

Blast Off! – Opening Lines by Jessica Norrie.

At choir last week, rehearsing Rossini’s Petite Messe Solennelle, there was a massive crescendo and the pianist stopped accompanying to announce: “That’s known as a Rossini Rocket.” It really is, apparently. Respect.

It set me wondering about Rossini Rockets in literature. Huge, telling moments when everything catches fire and the reader can hardly hear herself think. Battle scenes in War and Peace. Anything involving Bill Sykes or Becky Sharpe. The fire in the picture gallery at Soames Forsyte’s house. Fires anywhere – think of Jane Eyre and Miss Havisham. The 19th century may have been better at this. Presumably, something sparks somewhere in Fifty Shades of Grey, although I only got to around page 53 when I found it in my cousin’s guest bedroom. Nothing much was even smouldering by then, so I went to sleep.

Rossini could write a telling overture too, but authors need a rocket, or at least a hook, right at the start. Dickens has the best opening line ever: “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times” (A Tale of Two Cities). What scope he gives himself, with that, for anything at all to happen, in any possible way. The reader is agog. “It is a truth universally acknowledged…” is a Jane Austen opener we can all finish in our sleep, but fans of John Crace’s Digested Read  will note the whole plot is in that statement. With that sentence, Austen could have cut her words by 122,166 and still had the story (my thanks to My Particular Friend for the word count).

A weak opening line doesn’t have to be the end of sales and reputation though. Consider Marcel Proust’s “Longtemps, je me suis couché de bonne heure.” It loses a comma without gaining interest in translation: “For a long time I used to go to bed early.” Don’t expect nightlife or shenanigans in these nine volumes (though if memory serves even Proust got somewhere, if only with his grandmother, before page 53). Yet over time, sales have held up.


Moving on a century or so, authors can still get away with an apparently humdrum first sentence, if it implies something’s about to change. Here’s Eleanor Oliphant: “When people ask me what I do—taxi drivers, hairdressers—I tell them I work in an office.” The thick paperback in your hand is festooned with award stickers. Clearly, the next 380 pages aren’t going to dwell only on the malfunctioning photocopier and the daily email avalanche. Similarly, to avoid boring you with data, from now on I’ll give only the author’s name with the quote. The works they come from are easy to look up, and whether you do will be the proof of how enticing these first lines are.

An author can be explicit: “Let us begin with two girls at a dance” (Maggie O’Farrell) or you can begin at the end and work backwards: “I am nothing but a corpse now, a body at the bottom of a well” (Orhan Pamuk).

I tried to emulate this in my first novel – “Adrian Hartman wasn’t expecting to die that day, so he hadn’t thought to make a will.” But Pamuk’s corpse makes a bigger splash. (A note: Der Infinity-Pool was published in German today! If German is your mother tongue and you’d like to review it, please get in touch. Adrian Hartman hatte nicht damit gerechnet…)

Authority with a sense of conflict is good: as Jean Rhys tells us: “They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.” Or a statement with immediate denial, preferably containing an emotive word: “People think blood red, but blood don’t got no colour.” (Marlon James).

Fitting in both terror and desire is daring: “I am standing on a corner in Monterey, waiting for the bus to come in, and all the muscles of my will are holding my terror to face the moment I most desire.” (Elizabeth Smart). But Jeanette Winterson gets away with dull facts, the better to put a rocket up the following two sentences: “Like most people I lived for a long time with my mother and father.”

Most authors would be wise to use emotive words more sparingly than the genius Smart.

Here’s a selection: blood, as above, and war (here’s Robert Harris who knows how to grab an audience: “Major Picquard to see the Minister of War…”). Also love, heart, sick(ness), death/die, swell, ballroom, gusto, wedding, child, dreams, dawn, waves, not forgetting oddballs with overtones: my personal favourites include boulevard, wisteria/lilies, pitcher/striker, klaxon. Words can combine to kick the reader awake: “All at once the flat was full of noises” (Nicci French) or “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen”(George Orwell). If anyone wants to explore this more deeply, the author Kit Whitfield wrote a series on opening lines that leaves this article at the starting blocks.

I’m tempted to follow next time with a post on endings (as a child, I always used to turn to the back and read the last line first. I must have found it reassuring. ) The trouble with that is, it might involve spoilers for anyone who hasn’t yet had the pleasure/excitement/horror of reading my recommendations. Let me know in the comments below whether you’d like me to go ahead anyway, and meanwhile I’ll leave you with the last word, as used by Rossini. I think we’ll have to call it a Rossini Cop Out, but the music is sublime. “Breathe after men”, was the conductor’s instruction to the sopranos. Maybe it does have something in common with Fifty Shades after all. Start on page 77 and sing: Amen. Amen. A-a–amen. Amen. A-a-a-a-m-e-e-en, men. Amen (repeat and enjoy for 8 minutes 30 seconds, and you can see us in action on October 20th).

©Jessica Norrie 2018

About Jessica Norrie

Jessica Norrie studied French literature at Sussex University, and trained as a teacher at Sheffield. Then she wandered into parenthood, told her now grown up children stories, and heard theirs. A qualified translator, she worked on an eclectic mix of material, from health reports on racehorses to harrowing refugee tales. She taught, full time, part time, adults, children, co-authored a text book and ran teacher training. In 2008 she was inspired with the idea for “The Infinity Pool” and it appeared as a fully fledged novel in 2015. Meanwhile she sings soprano and plays the piano, walks in the forest and enjoys living in and using London. She looks forward to writing more in the future.

Jessica Norrie

About the Book.

In this thoughtful novel set on a sun-baked island, Adrian Hartman, the charismatic director of the Serendipity holiday community, is responsible for ensuring the perfect mindful break, with personal growth and inner peace guaranteed. People return year after year to bare their souls. For some, Adrian IS Serendipity. But Adrian disappears, and with him goes the serenity of his staff and guests, who are bewildered without their leader. The hostility of the local villagers is beginning to boil over. Is their anger justified or are the visitors, each in a different way, just paranoid?

As romance turns sour and conflict threatens the stability of both communities, everyone has to find their own way to survive. This evocative story explores the decisions of adults who still need to come of age, the effect of well-intentioned tourism on a traditional community, and the real meaning of getting away from it all.

One of the recent reviews for the book

Well-written and acutely observed on 14 December 2017

Jessica Norrie’s novel, set on a sun-drenched island somewhere in the Mediterranean, examines the personalities and pitfalls encountered on the sort of package holiday that offers holistic life-skills and self-improvement courses. While practising yoga and suchlike activities, guests at the Serendipity resort, together with staff and, from time to time, local villagers, confront social, personal and philosophical challenges.Norrie has a confident narrative voice and a shrewd and sympathetic view of human nature, which makes her account of the goings-on at Serendipity entertaining as well as thought-provoking.

The central character is absent for much of the book: this means that the reader builds up a picture of him through the thoughts and observations of other characters, like a photographic negative – he is defined by his impact on others. When he re-emerges in his own right, his condition is so altered that we learn about other people from their decidedly contrasting (and sometimes unattractive) reactions.

The prose is occasionally lyrical – as a swimmer emerges from a pool, “The water softly shifted to a forgiving stillness” – and consistently accessible. The author is very good on the strains inherent in a globalized culture. The gulf between Serendipity’s staff and guests on the one hand and the local community on the other sours into violence, which may not be entirely surprising since, as one of the resort’s denizens observes, “Our food and our water supply are better than theirs, so we don’t eat in their restaurants or buy their fruit, except in town where it’s so touristy; most of us don’t even try to speak their language; we don’t talk to them when they come to our bar; we expect them to put up with us sunbathing naked on the beach in front of their grandmothers – and then we go on about how beautiful the country is and how fascinating the local traditions are.”

The author also has a clear-eyed view of the reality beneath picturesque Mediterranean society. A young woman considers “meeting and marrying some local man and giving birth within the time honoured local conventions, kicking just a little against restrictions on her sex because that was what each new generation did, then in turn chivvying her own daughters and unconditionally adoring her sons.”

The Infinity Pool is a well-written and acutely observed examination of diverse lives.

Read some of the many excellent reviews and buy the book:

and on Amazon US:

Find more reviews on Goodreads:

Connect to Jessica


My thanks again to Jessica Norrie for giving us something to think about. And congratulations on the release of her book in German.

As a writer that first line has always been the most difficult to get down on paper. Perhaps because we are all aware that it will be the first thing read by a reader we wish to engage as quickly as possible.

I vividly remember reading Moby Dick at about 13 years old and thinking how magical this book was going to be when I read the first line…

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.”

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

How about you let Jessica and I know what your favourite opening line is and from which book and if you would like to find out more about final lines of books. They too carry a great deal of weight.

Thanks for dropping in and look forward to hearing from you.  Sally


“Celebrate the Summer Solstice,” A Tanka Poem

A date to put in your diary.. and a cover reveal for the new release from Colleen Chesebro on June 21st. Fairies, Myths and Magic.. poetry and short stories.. and it is a perfect time to celebrate the Summer Solstice

Colleen Chesebro ~ The Fairy Whisperer


I’ve stretched the limits of my Weekly Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge this week, but I have a good reason as you will see below. In my Tanka poem, I used “cheer,” for praise, and “feed the fires,” for excite.

This is also a book cover reveal!

Please join me on Thursday, June 21st, to help me celebrate the release of my first book of poetry and short stories called, “Fairies, Myths, & Magic ~ A Summer Celebration.” This book is written as a tribute to the Summer Solstice.

Fairies, Myths, & Magic Final

Book Cover design by Wendy Anne Darling ~ Bookxeedo Book Covers

Celebrate the Summer Solstice

This summer solstice—
cheer the balmy rising sun
Litha blessings flow.
Triumph the light over dark,
feed the fires of midsummer.

© 2018 Colleen M. Chesebro

Stayed tuned to learn about the special introductory price which will be announced on June 21st. ❤

Good morning friends

View original post

Sally’s Cafe and Bookstore – Author Update – Karen Ingalls, Deborah Jay and Alethea Kehas

Three amazing authors in the Cafe and Bookstore with recent reviews Karen Ingalls, Deborah Jay and Alethea Kehas… if you are looking for a good book to read.. pop in.

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

Welcome to the Friday edition of the Cafe and Bookstore Update and the first author today celebrating a recent review is Karen Ingalls who has received another wonderful review for her memoir Outshine: An Ovarian Cancer Memoir

About the book

When Karen Ingalls was diagnosed with Stage IIC ovarian cancer, she realized how little she knew about what is called “the silent killer.” As Ingalls began to educate herself she felt overwhelmed by the prevalent negativity of cancer. Lost in the information about drugs, side effects, and statistics, she redirected her energy to focus on the equally overwhelming blessings of life, learning to rejoice in each day and find peace in spirituality.

In this memoir, Karen is a calming presence and positive companion, offering a refreshing perspective of hope with the knowledge that “the beauty of the soul, the real me and the real you, outshines the effects of cancer…

View original post 983 more words

Sally’s Drive Time Playlist #Music to get the weekend started – 1974 – Tiger Feet by Mud, Devil Gate Drive by Suzi Quatro

Welcome to my browse through my various playlists, for every mood, and most usually listened to when in the car or exercising. Some of the tracks on my playlist have been favourites for nearly 50 years. Others that I listen to regularly bring back memories of some of the tougher times in life, but you can’t blame the music for those!

I began married life in late 1973 in a large, dark and chilling married quarter based at RAF Waddington in Lincolnshire. The houses were built during the war and had not been updated since. The walls were painted a regulation mud colour and all the wood work was dark brown gloss. It came fully furnished with mismatched sofas and chairs, old oak dining room table and beds that had seen a lot of traffic.

However, I was in full new bride mode and added framed prints to the walls and colourful cushions to the mottled beige sofas.

I did not drive so was more or less restricted to base during the week. There was a food shop for residents of the station and I would walk over daily to buy essentials, more for the exercise and the chance to meet another person.

My husband was a co-pilot on the iconic RAF bomber the Vulcan. The squadron would be away for ten days at a time on training exercises in places such as Goose Bay in Canada, so until I met a few of the other wives it was quite lonely. Social life was good with a function on in the mess most weekends and that was fine when my husband was home. Many of the wives already had young children and were busy but I eventually met up with a handful who like me found themselves stuck in the wilds with time on their hands.

What I did have was a radio, a gramophone player and my Wilbur Smith books. Radio One by now was hugely popular and the Breakfast Show was switched on first thing and music would be playing in the background all day. The DJs were the media stars of the time and included John Peel, Tony Blackburn, and believe it or not… Terry Wogan.

The top hits of 1974 were mixed and probably one of the most popular was David Essex with Gonna Make You A Star, The Three Degrees with When Will I See You Again, Terry Jacks and Seasons in the Sun, Mud with Tiger Feet (great hit in the mess on Saturday night) and the song that used to end the evening’s entertainment, the deep and sexy voice of Mr. Barry White with You’re My First, My Last, My Everything.

However, 1974 was one of my dancing years and I was a really cheap date. A half pint of lager and out on the dance floor until the music stopped. Here are two tracks still on my playlist today and great motivating me on cold wet mornings. Once a rock chick.. always a rock chick!!!!!

Here is Mud with Tiger Feet – something to get you up from that desk……

And here is Suzi Quatro – Devil Gate Drive – Suzi Quatro Amazon

If you have certain songs that bring memories back.. good or not so good, then please leave the title or even a link to YouTube in the comments, and I will include in a request show later in the series. Thanks Sally.

Smorgasbord Poetry – #Haiku – The Daredevil – with Tofino Photography

Just when I think the photographs of the Eagles of Tofino, captured in the stunning beauty by Wayne Barnes, cannot get any more dramatic… I get an email.

Tough to do The Daredevil justice with mere words.



About Wayne and Tofino Photography.

Tofino Photography captures the life in the small west coast village of Tofino, British Columbia, Canada through wildlife, landscape and seascape photos.
– I am interested in the surrounding local flora/fauna and try to get out in my boat as often as I can. I started my photography after taking a one year course in my home town in 1973. I use my Darkroom to do my own films and prints and shoot digitally as well.
I like to stay in the background and let my pictures speak for me. They do a much better job !

If you do not already follow Tofino Photography then head over and be amazed.

This is just the directory for the Tofino Eagles… there are also bears, seals and othe wildlife, as well as stunning shots of the breathtaking scenery.

Thank you for dropping by today.. your feedback is always welcome. Sally